


reap not to the edges of your field

by within_a_dream



Series: Kinktober 2018 [8]
Category: Apostle (2018)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: An argument brings on a return to old ways





	reap not to the edges of your field

Malcolm was a coward. Quinn should have realized that long ago, but he’d been blinded by their shared bond and (as much as he was loath to admit it) by lust. If Malcolm were left to his own devices, the crops of the island would wither and perish, and its people along with it.

He didn’t foresee a rational discussion swaying Malcolm, but their past bond compelled him to try. Quinn cornered him after a feeding, a bit of blood still dribbling from his hands.

“We need to discuss this.”

“I’ve had all the discussion I care to.” Malcolm began to turn away.

Quinn had intended to walk away if Malcolm showed no willingness to talk. Truly, he had. But the way the man turned up his nose at the darker necessities of their success infuriated him. A true leader must be willing to sacrifice a few of his pawns to keep his queen. He grabbed Malcolm’s shirt in his fist, shoving him against the wall.

“Do you not see what you’ve done? Our Goddess is dying, and the island with her, all for the sake of a man who cannot stomach a bit of blood on his hands.”

Malcolm looked shaken at the contempt in his voice. Good, Quinn thought. He needed to know just what Quinn thought of him.

“I have no desire to slaughter one of our flock to save another.”

“Is it not merciful, to take one lamb in order to save the rest of the flock from starvation?” Quinn only barely restrained himself from punching him. “You’re a coward and a fool, Malcolm, and I won’t let you stand in the way of our salvation.”

“Please, Quinn, if our past means anything to you–”

With a start, Quinn noticed Malcolm’s growing arousal. “I can see it still means something to _you_ ,” he said, bringing his knee between Malcolm’s legs.

Malcolm moaned, and shivered with the effort of not rutting into Quinn. They had ended up in each others’ arms on too many nights to count since washing up on the island; Quinn knew exactly how to touch Malcolm to make him beg, and where to avoid to keep him in torment. Perhaps an appeal to Malcolm’s prick would succeed where an appeal to his rational mind had failed.

Or perhaps Quinn simply missed having Malcolm underneath his fingers, no matter how much he now loathed the man.

He released his grip on Malcolm’s shirt and began to undo the ties of his trousers, noticing with satisfaction that Malcolm made no move to flee and with even more pleasure that liquid had already begun to bead on the head of his prick. Quinn had found himself lonely on a fair few nights since their falling-out, but Malcolm was clearly desperate.

He stroked a thumb over the head of Malcolm’s prick, just shy of the pressure he knew the man preferred. Malcolm had shut his eyes and turned his head away, but Quinn still saw the flicker of frustration on his face.

“Did you expect a return to our old ways, with nary a thought for what lays between us?” he asked, beginning to stroke the length of Malcolm’s shaft. “Did you think I would give everything to you, when you have so stubbornly refused to do the same for me?”

Malcolm gave a few aborted thrusts into Quinn’s fist, stopping when it became clear Quinn wouldn’t tolerate it.

“You will let me lead here,” Quinn said with a smirk.

Malcolm sighed but said nothing, acquiescing to Quinn’s touches. Quinn tightened his grip, taking Malcolm to full staff. He kissed along Malcolm’s neck, leaving bites in a trail across his throat. He ignored his own growing arousal, focusing entirely on keeping Malcolm just on the edge of completion. Malcolm moaned, and writhed, and tried in vain to draw Quinn into bringing him to completion. But Quinn held firm.

When he tired of the game, he drew away, leaving a desperate Malcolm half-collapsed against the wall. “I have no desire to wash a coward’s spend off my hands,” he said, walking away.

Quinn wasn’t sure which would be sweeter, Malcolm returning to his room to take himself in hand (thinking of Quinn all the while) or Malcolm going to sleep still aching for him. Quinn hoped every stroke of his hand or ache of his prick made him think of the mistake he was making.

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for [Kinktober](http://withinadream27.tumblr.com/post/171110050839/kinktober-2018), for the prompt "orgasm denial".
> 
> Title from Leviticus 23:22, courtesy of Ellis (as is my interest in the movie to begin with.)
> 
> Yes, the Goddess was watching them the whole time. Get a room, guys!


End file.
